


Quiet, Please.

by galliumspoon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Ballet Teacher Katsuki Yuuri, Detective Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Rating May Change, it's not graphic but, like so so gay, they're also really cute, they're gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9329333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galliumspoon/pseuds/galliumspoon
Summary: An attractive cop shows up at Yuuri's door looking for his missing student.





	1. Yuuri is a Vegan

**Author's Note:**

> Good day, fellow humans.   
> I have a sick, twisted mind.   
> This is the third serial killer fic I have started.  
> I promise I'll get to the other shit eventually.
> 
> Don't go into this expecting the other skaters to stay alive.
> 
> You should listen to my [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbity554pSg&list=TLGG_2Zt4LsRF1IxNDAxMjAxNw) for this fic.
> 
> I love to shank pedestrians with icicles and make them into meat pies.

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he scrubbed at a stubborn spot of blood on his palm. His latest project had been time consuming and considerably messier than usual. The brunette often preferred clean efficiency to a gory mess, but he had been unsettled this week and needed to work off some tension. 

This week’s leftover materials had been disposed of or packed away for later and the entire room bleached and scrubbed, but when he closed his eyes Yuuri could still smell the copper tang under the chemicals. He reveled in the scent, an almost but not there indicator of what had taken place. 

Huffing in triumph as the last spot of blood washed out of his skin, Yuuri dried his hands on the clean dishrag he kept near the sink and grabbed his bag of newly cleaned tools before he headed upstairs. At the top step, the brunette turned around, surveying the room for any misplaced items.

Fluorescent lights buzzed as they lighted the (now) clean basement. There was a mop and bucket leant against the wall next to a small green and white sink. The only indicator of Yuuri’s somewhat unusual hobby was the loop sunk into the concrete floor and the freezer that hummed into the silence of the room.

Finding the basement’s state to his satisfaction, the brunette flicked off the light and left, closing and locking the door behind him.

* * *

 

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he scrubbed at a stubborn spot of beet juice on his hands. He was making a salad for dinner and sincerely regretted his desire for a more colorful salad now that his hands were dyed scarlet. There was a knock on the door so, fingertips still slightly red, the brunette gave up and dried his hands on a clean dishrag he kept near the sink. 

The door to Yuuri’s apartment opened on a silver haired man with a badge hung around his neck. Yuuri stiffened slightly, forcing himself not to glance behind him. Warily, Yuuri spoke, “Can I help you?”

“Are you Mr. Yuuri Katsuki?”

The cop gave a cheery smile and Yuuri opened the door slightly more than before. “Yes?”

“I’m Detective Nikiforov, of the NYPD. Do you know Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Yes of course, he’s a student in my ballet class on Mondays.” 

Yuri had been a beautiful dancer, but he had been gorgeous pleading for his life. His soft blond hair stuck in the tears running down his cheeks as he tried to scream around the cloth duct taped in his mouth. Blue eyes wild with an interesting mix of anger and fear.

Yuuri shook himself out of his memories, “What happened? Is he okay?”

“I’m afraid he’s been missing for about four days, is there any chance that you could give me any information related to his disappearance?”

Of course he could, Yuri Plisetsky, or well, parts of him, were downstairs. 

“Of course,” Yuuri smiled in a way that he hoped looked shy and sad instead of impatient and nervous. “Is there any chance that we could do it later? I need some time to gather my thoughts, and maybe eat dinner.” At this he wiggled his crimson-stained fingers, “Beet salad, it’s been a long day.”

Detective Nikiforov smiled again, wider this time. A thought flashed across Yuuri’s mind and he struggled to contain his mirth.  _ He looks absolutely insane. _

“Of course! Is there a time that’s good for you? We can do it at the station, if you like.”

Yuuri looked to the ground, thinking. It would make more sense to do it at home, where there were less cops, but it made him uncomfortable to even remotely broach the idea of a detective in his home. The studio was absolutely out of the question, he couldn’t be called out of class or in the middle of a private, and studio time was expensive as it was. Internally sighing, Yuuri begrudgingly looked at Nikiforov’s forehead, avoiding eye contact. 

“I’m free tomorrow morning, if that’s okay. And I would like to do it at the station, yes.”

“Of course, of course. I’m from the 60th precinct in Brighton Beach, do you know where it is?”

Yuuri waved him off, “I can look it up, don’t worry about it.” 

Nikiforov’s grin stretched impossibly larger. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Have a good night Mr. Katsuki.”

“You too, Detective Nikiforov.”

Then the door was finally shut and Yuuri thumped his head against it, cursing softly. 

_ That was way too fucking close. _

* * *

 

When the alarm broke through Yuuri’s warm cocoon of blankets on the bed, he groaned, snaked an arm out from where it was curled into his side and slapped in his phone’s general direction until he heard it fall to the floor with a sharp crack.

The sun shone weakly through the blinds of Yuuri’s bedroom and the cold of the morning made the brunette disappear into his bed covers and never return to the outside world. Slowly, he peeled the duvet and blankets away from his body. He darted out of his clothes and into the bathroom, hopping from foot to foot and shivering as he waited for the shower to warm up. 

When he was finally dry and dressed in semi-presentable clothes, Yuuri made his way to the kitchen. While waiting for his coffee he hummed and pulled an apple from the fridge and sliced it, eating it with peanut butter. 

He cursed when he saw the time and dashed to the door. Tugging his shoes on, he closed the door to his home.

Only for the door to slam open again as he dashed inside to grab his keys, wallet, metrocard, jacket, scarf, hat, and phone. Finally ready, Yuuri slammed out the door, locking it quickly before making his way to the nearest bus stop. He saw the bus heading towards the stop and had to sprint to catch it.

Yuuri wheezed his thanks to the bus driver as he stepped through the doors. Surveying the bus as his metrocard was run, Yuuri found a single seat near a window. He grabbed his card from the slot and slid it into his pocket, making his way over and taking a seat. 

The scenery slid by slowly as he waited for his stop, cold winter sunlight shone down on people walking their dogs and others on their way to work and school. When the bus was a block away, Yuuri raised his hand and pulled the cord over the window for the stop.

After one more bus ride and a quick trip on the Q, Yuuri stood in front of the 60th precinct of the NYPD, shivering in the frequent gusts of wind.

The doors of the precinct squeaked as he pressed inside, his eagerness to escape the bitter cold forcing him inside before he could think to steel himself to go in. The entrance was quiet, a couple of beat cops walking out of a door to the side of what a sign indicated as the receptionist’s window. A woman with a thick accent spoke animatedly to the slightly harassed looking man seated behind the desk. 

Yuuri waited patiently in line until the lady left, nodding and smiling at her as she bustled out the door.

“Can I help you?” Yuuri’s eyes snapped back to the receptionist and nodded, stepping up to the window. 

Fiddling with the edges of his dark blue glasses, Yuuri spoke, “I’m here to see Detective Nikiforov? My name is Yuuri Katsuki.” He shoved his frames up his nose with a finger. “I believe he wanted to take my statement regarding a missing person, Yuri Plisets — ”

“Alright, alright. I’ll call him to see if he’ll come get you. You can wait over there.” At this the receptionist jerked a thumb towards what appeared to be a corkboard covered in papers and pins. “Have a nice day.”

Yuuri messed around on his phone for a few minutes, quickly growing bored with the article he was reading. Putting the phone in his pocket, the brunette let his eyes wander for a few minutes before he remembered what was behind him. 

The corkboard was covered in flyers advertising everything from guitar lessons to wanted posters to information on missing persons. Yuuri systematically read every poster, making it halfway through the missing persons flyers before something caught his eye. A missing persons flyer for someone named Celestino Cialdini dated at almost six months ago.

Yuuri remembered Celestino quite fondly. The man had been Yuuri’s teacher for almost an entire seven months before he had unfortunately been occupied in other ways. Celestino, affectionately nicknamed Ciao-Ciao by his then-roommate Phichit Chulanont, had taken Yuuri under his wing and made the young man his pet project. In return, Yuuri made Ciao-Ciao  _ his  _ first project.

* * *

 

The screech of a wooden chair against concrete ripped through the air as the man before Yuuri struggled desperately to free himself. Yuuri sighed harshly, disappointed in himself for the incorrect calculation that had made Celestino wake up too early and too fast. Yuuri had meant for Ciao-Ciao to remain sedated through most of this so that the lines wouldn’t be too messed up but what was he to do? It was Yuuri’s first time after all, he was sure he’d get better given time and practice. 

A muffled, hoarse yell brought Yuuri back from his musings. Ciao-ciao had calmed down a bit, no longer trying to tip the chair over. The man had started crying and Yuuri frowned in disapproval. He had really thought Celestino had a better constitution than this. 

_ No matter _ , he thought, turning behind him to find his first tool, a long, slender knife with a sharply tapered point and a slightly curved blade. The brunette tested the edge with a finger, sliding it from point to bolster, checking it for impurities. Finding none, Yuuri turned back to Celestino. As he neared the man grew more and more stiff, a whimper working his way out of his throat as Yuuri drew the blade lightly across his neck without breaking skin. 

Yuuri smiled.

“Now, Ciao-Ciao, you’ve given me the privilege of being your project. I just want to return the favor. Don’t you agree you deserve a reward?”

The man in the chair shook his head ferociously, Yuuri laughed.

“It’s okay, you don’t get it now, but you will be beautiful when I’m done. I have it all planned out. Unfortunately I can’t practice often so my later works will be better, but you will have the honor of being my first.”

Celestino’s whimpers increased in frequency and volume and Yuuri smoothed a hand down his face. “Shh, don’t worry. You’ll be gorgeous.”

The brunette took a moment to look at a sheet of paper detailing his desired end result sitting next to the sink before turning back again. 

“Alright, Ciao-Ciao, shall we get started?”

* * *

“Mr. Katsuki? Yuuri!” Detective Nikiforov’s voice interrupted Yuuri’s reverie.

“Oh, Detective Nikiforov.” The brunette looked up, meeting the bright eyes of the taller man, embarrassed. I’m sorry, my mind must have wandered.”

Nikiforov laughed, his smile eating up half of his face. “No worries, Mr. Katsuki. We should get going, though. Yes?” Yuuri nodded and followed Nikiforov deeper into the precinct, tugging on his scarf nervously to loosen it. 

The station was buzzing with a sort of lazy purpose that wasn’t out of place on a Monday afternoon. Policemen milled around as Nikiforov pushed passed them and headed up stairs. 

Eventually Yuuri was seated at the metal table of an interview room, plastic cup of cold water in front of him. Nikiforov pulled out the chair and sat in front of him, notepad covered in doodles of little poodles and sleek black pen on the table.

Nikiforov folded his hands under his chin, staring at Yuuri through narrowed eyes. “So, Mr. Katsuki, I just have one question for you. Why are you getting sloppy?”

“I — I’m sorry?” Yuuri stuttered, taken aback.

The man across from him shrugged his shoulders, “You’re getting sloppy.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What I mean is that I know that there are currently an abnormally large amount of disappearances that are going cold. I know that we probably aren’t even going to find the bodies.” 

Yuuri glanced nervously at the window behind Nikiforov’s shoulder. “I—”

Nikiforov caught his glance and waved dismissively. “Don’t worry, this is completely off record. There’s no one behind the window and the cameras are off.” He shifted so he was leaning against the metal table. “No, no. This is just one simple fan speaking to the one he admires.” He leans back in the chair again. “I shouldn’t have been able to find you, you know. But  _ I _ knew the minute I showed up.”

While the detective spoke, Yuuri’s demeanor had drastically shifted. When Nikiforov stopped speaking, he leaned his chin into his hand, smiling lazily. “Okay, you caught me. What do you want?”

“I want to know why you’re getting sloppy.”

“Maybe I’m not getting sloppy, you’re just becoming more perceptive.”

Nikiforov huffed out a breath. “Fine, don’t let me help. Do you know of my work?”

“I don’t focus on others, enlighten me.”

“Asterisk on the hip, active for four years. Twelve victims.”

“Oh yes,” Yuuri shifted forward, crossing his arms on the table. “I have heard of you, I admire your work.” He paused. “Though it is a bit showy for me.”

“People get into this hobby because it’s showy.”

“That’s not why I did, I do it for the art. Each piece is unique and for my eyes only.” Yuuri smiled self-deprecatingly. “I suppose it’s because I’m a selfish man.”

“If you’re selfish, I don’t suppose you’d mind a chance to wager for something you desire.”

_Intriguing._ Yuuri sat up slightly. “Like what?”

“Like all the information the department has on missing cases connected to you. If you win, of course.” 

“What are you proposing we bet on, detective?”

“Who finishes their next project first.” Nikiforov said, standing up and picking up his things from the table.

“What would you win?” Yuuri asked from the table.

Detective Nikiforov smiled at Yuuri, gripping the doorknob, “Your number and a night out, of course, Mr. Katsuki.”

“Call me Yuuri.”

“Then you should call me Victor!” Came the answer shouted from the hallway.

  
  



	2. Victor is a Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor's shit at romance and being a person, who knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I am back, don't expect regular updates from me.   
> My GC is really helping with my motivation though so who knows.  
> As always, there's blood and murder because what else would you expect from two (really gay for each other) serial killers.  
> Notes at the bottoooooom.  
> Enjoy this borderline crack/soft slowburn/gore intense fic.  
> Please don't hate me.
> 
> And hey, maybe listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbity554pSg&list=TLGG_2Zt4LsRF1IxNDAxMjAxNw) playlist while you read?

While Yuuri disliked rushing his work, it led to sloppy mistakes that could easily cast suspicion onto him and land him in a prison cell, this time he was willing to make an exception for Victor. And those files. The brunette was desperate to know what the police had found, if they had found anything, if he had to be even more meticulous in the disposal of his projects than he had been in the past.

He really hoped Victor wasn’t fucking with him. At least for Victor’s sake. 

It was new to him, being approached. His limited social interaction caused most people to view him as aloof and disinterested which, while not entirely untrue, was quite limiting in terms of prospects. Yuuri hadn’t been interested in relationships in the past, what with his extra curriculars. Anyone too close to him posed a loose thread and a potential jail sentence. Relationships weren’t important to him but it was nice being asked. It might be nice to explore with this newly presented safe option.

In any case, Yuuri had a project to plan and execute, hopefully before Victor. It would be unfortunate for him to lose, not just because he would lose any chance of looking at those files, but also for his pride. Yuuri prided himself on his exemplary work and no one, especially not someone he had just met, would be able to best him. 

Yuuri sighed and pushed his glasses further up his nose, the dim light from his desk lamp reflecting off of the lenses for a brief second. He had decided his next project would be his peer from the ballet classes Yuuri took on Wednesdays uptown, Guang Hong Ji. 

Pictures of Guang Hong, taken from the boy’s social media and various internet searches, were spread out in front of Yuuri, who sifted through the papers for a moment behind coming up with a picture of Guang Hong smiling at the beach, with his arm around his boyfriend, Leo de la Iglesia, both of them squinting in the bright sunlight.

The picture was placed to the side for a moment as the other pages were gathered up into a pile and placed in a corner of Yuuri’s desk. The brunette picked up the image and placed it directly in front of him, uncapping a red pen, Yuuri smiled.

“Let’s make you even more beautiful than you are now.”

* * *

 

Victor Nikiforov stared at the picture in front of him, delicate eyebrows scrunched together, making his pale forehead wrinkle. He had found out through some intense research, he didn’t want to call it stalking, that he had chosen Guang Hong Ji as his next victim. The russian had decided it would be fitting to chose Guang Hong’s boyfriend, Leo de la Iglesia, as his own victim. He hoped it would impress Yuuri.

Yuuri Katsuki was somewhat of a whispered legend among both cops and those killers that kept in touch, they tended to be a somewhat solitary breed. Cops knew that there was an unusual amount of missing persons cases that remained unsolved and speculated that there may be someone behind them all, but thought nothing of the scope and didn’t believe it seriously enough to launch an investigation. 

Among Victor’s other groups of peers, however, Yuuri was known of and spoken of often. It was impressive to pull off the clean kills that Yuuri did, but even more so when considering the amount of victims he had efficiently disposed of.

Victor himself was a little more well known in both communities, a little more spoken of. It helped that he had a signature, which Yuuri did not, for an unknown reason. A little asterisk, carved into the hip, the body just as often in a butcher’s freezer as in an ice rink. As long as it was cold, someone was likely to find a body. The little asterisk, as well as his victims’ final freezing destination, had given him the nickname “the Snowflake Stabber.” Victor had actually suggested that name when he was more active in his own precinct. Even more amusing than that name suggestion being taken seriously was working on his own case. Leading his fellow cops in neat little circles that went nowhere, seeing their faces when they realized they had failed again.

It was nice that Yuuri had known of his work. Victor didn’t know who he was expecting to open the door to the address that he had found attached to the two most recent unsolved disappearances, but it certainly wasn’t the attractive twenty-something brunette that opened the door, eyes big behind blue frames.

The silver haired man had decided then and there that he would do all in his power to get Yuuri to go on a date with him. 

Victor sat back in his chair, picture still in hand, Leo de la Iglesia’s happy face smiling out from the page. 

He only hoped Yuuri would appreciate his choice in victim for the romantic gesture it was.

* * *

 

Finger on his lips, Yuuri surveyed the inert teenager tied to the chair in front of him. 

Guang Hong was still unconscious. The small, precisely calculated amount of tasteless, slow acting sedative Yuuri had slipped into Guang Hong’s drink when they had met up for coffee before their ballet class earlier was working nicely. The boy would be out for approximately, Yuuri checked his watch, thirty minutes, if all went according to plan.

Yuuri turned to look behind him at the sink’s counter, where all of his tools were spread out. He ran fanned out fingers over the spread and sighed. Beyond seeing the final product, the beginning was his favorite, the anticipation for the first blade to make it’s mark, the image in his mind about to be realized. He relished in the feeling.

Looking over the paper next to his tools, Yuuri selected one and tested it’s exquisitely sharp edge with his finger. Finding it to his standards, the brunette turned around, smiling sweetly at the slumbering teen before him. 

It was time to begin. 

Stepping forwards, Yuuri grasped Guang Hong’s delicate chin and tilted his head back and up, towards the wall behind him. Guang Hong’s face was slack, lips parted in drugged slumber, his breathing was easy and even. The picture of innocence and Yuuri was too impatient to hold off starting any longer.

Turning the teenager’s cheek to the side, Yuuri sucked in a slow breath and took his razor-edged blade, pressing the tip into the young man’s cheek, creating a dent, before piercing it and watching the blood bead up from the cut as he drew a thin line from the cheek to chin with a steady hand. Yuuri released a slow sigh, straightening up and rocking back on his heels. 

The first cut finished, the initial tension out of the way. Yuuri was confident that Guang Hong wouldn’t wake from his work and his endeavor could begin in earnest. 

It took a great deal of time to perfect his work. When Yuuri had started the sun was burning bright in the sky outside the window, by the time he had finished, the sun was already slipping below the horizon. 

Guang Hong had woken up, as predicted, about thirty minutes into it, and had screamed from the pain for a while. Yuuri put a rag in his mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue so he could return to the task at hand, the boy staring at him with pleading eyes, salty tears slipping down his cheeks. 

But now it was over. 

Yuuri quickly took a picture on the camera he kept specifically for this purpose and stowed it away again. He placed his hands on his hips and huffed out a breath. Now all that was left was to clean up.

* * *

 

The old meatpacking plant was dark, the only light source the moonlight streaming in through the window, illuminating Leo de la Iglesia’s prone form, back resting against the support column he was tied to. 

A bit cliche, Victor mused, but he was a bit cliche. He deserved to indulge himself once in awhile, he thought. 

Leo came to, tugging on his hands and glaring up at Victor where he loomed over him with a small smirk on his pale face. “What the fuck?” he spit with venom. “Who the fuck are you?”

Victor smiled, genuine, and unclasped his hands from behind his back, sweeping in front of him, palms up as if showing his victim something grand. “I am Victor, I am here to kill you.”

A snort, “What kind of cheesy shit is that? Got a mustache you can twirl?”

“I am entirely serious.”

“What? Why? What did I ever do to you?”

“Oh, nothing.” The silver haired man flapped a hand lazily, “This isn’t personal, believe me.” He beamed at Leo, who bristled. 

“I have a boyfriend, we were supposed to meet today, he’ll know that I’ve gone missing.” Leo’s glare sharpened, “Is this because I’m gay?”

The man’s smile dimmed a little bit, and Victor felt slightly disappointed in Leo. This one wasn’t very observant, was he? His lips stretched again, now into a slightly less pleased grin. 

“I already told you it wasn’t personal.” God, the slow ones were always less fun to play with. “You’re boyfriend is actually occupied right now.” 

Victor’s grin widened to almost inhuman capability, slow his company may be, but it’s always fun to talk about Yuuri. “By my future-maybe boyfriend! I don’t know.”

Ropes creaked slightly as Leo shifted uncomfortably in confusion. Victor sighed, “I don’t know, I really want to date him but I bet him files regarding his cases versus a date with me. I feel like that was probably a bad idea.”

“Yeah, it really was, who asks someone out like that in real life?” Leo muttered absently, trying to concentrate on picking at the knot of the rope and  _ getting the fuck out of here _ . 

“I don’t know!” Victor whines, “I thought it’d be romantic.”

“Where’d you get your romance tips from?”

“No where! Everywhere?” Victor gripped his hair in confusion, “Maybe you? You already have Guang Hong, after all.”

Leo paused in his knot picking. “Excuse me?”

“You already have a boyfriend, Guang Hong. Don’t you? Oh this would be terrible if I got this mistaken.”

A message alert sounded from the inside of Victor’s pocket and he pulled out his phone. Face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen, Victor read the alert and slid his phone back into his pocket, face horrifyingly stretched into a ridiculous leer. 

The killer clapped his hands together, rubbing them together like a cheesy movie villain as Leo tugs fruitlessly at his wrists, wincing as the rope rubs against the raw skin.

“Shall we begin?”

“ _ Fuck  _ no.”

 

ломтик ломтик ребенка (22:30): It’s done.

ломтик ломтик ребенка (22:30) Meet at the Shake Shack near Battery Park tomorrow, 22:30. Bring the files. Don’t be late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't think Leo's stupid, Victor's stupid because he thinks he's superior and makes snap judgements.  
> Also I think Leo curses a lot because he's american, I'm american, and I curse a lot. We are a hive mind.  
> Please stop me.  
> This wasn't read over by anyone! And written when I was sleep deprived. _Please_ lemme know if there are mistakes.  
>  The Russian contact name is Yuuri, of course, and because victor is **_Not Subtle At All_** it means "slice slice baby." Please correct me if I'm wrong, I used my best friend google translate.  
>  I'm really sorry for Victor's serial killer name, I was running on like three hours of sleep and I can't take anything seriously anymore.   
> The chapter's short because I was planning on putting them meeting up but I did not. This way it gets more time than it normally would in the _next_ chapter.
> 
> P.S. If you haven't caught it already they live in NYC, Shake Shack has some of the best burgers and fries in the city, and Victor works in the 60 precinct, which covers Coney Island, Brighton Beach (which is where Yurio lived) and a metric fuck ton of parks.  
> P.S.S. I'll work on cutting down note length later, but it's three am and my hands are s h a k i n g.  
> P.S.S.S. Who do you wanna see die next? Vote now on your phones (in the comments).
> 
> L and I are the original murder power couple.
> 
> Bye butterflies! Have a beautiful weekend!


	3. Victor Needs to Chill™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri may be a mess when half asleep, but I'm a mess when fully awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I would say I have an excuse for not posting in like 3 months... bUT I DON'T  
> (Depression's a bitch lol.)  
> Yeah anyway, enjoy!  
> There isn't any blood/gore this chapter I'm sorry.   
> This is so fluffy I think I made myself sick.  
> Extra long (no it's not) to make up for the long wait. (Again, sorry.)

Victor showed up at the burger joint fifteen minutes before the meeting time, apprehensively tucking the card he carried deeper into the inside pocket of his coat. Nothing could have been done, however, to conceal the big bouquet of red roses in his hand. He shifted back and forth on his feet outside the door to the restaurant, light from the establishment bathing him in a warm glow reminiscent of the sun that had set hours before.

Shaking his sleeve back to check his watch for the fifth time in the past minute, Victor tried to suppress the ball of nervous tension in his chest. Unsuccessful, the serial killer looked at his watch again and adjusted his grip on the flowers. He knew Yuuri didn’t expect a date, since he had won, merely expected a perfunctory exchange which would have resulted in his receiving the file and perhaps a meal. 

The file, or rather, thick collection of files, however, was sitting at home, safely tucked away in a locked box under Victor’s bed. The key stored safely among the multitude of keys on his keyring, indistinguishable from the others. He knew it was cheating, but there was no way he was going to pass up on Yuuri without taking him out on a date first. Especially since those files weren’t especially easy to retrieve. 

A woman pushing her sleeping baby in a stroller smiled at him as she walked past, he returned it with less than his usual fervor, lips turning briefly upward before going back to the nervous frown that had been in place all evening, since he had gotten off work.

He glanced at his watch again, noting the time, only two minutes until they were supposed to meet. His blue eyes darted over the sidewalk again, stuttering when he saw Yuuri hurrying towards the restaurant, knit cap over his hair and face buried in his scarf, huddled in his jacket in a weak attempt to brace himself against the cutting Manhattan winter wind.

Victor forced himself to wait until Yuuri walked a few more steps until he lifted his arm and called out, “Yuuri! Over here!”

The brunette’s head whipped up from where it was concentrating on the ground and Victor saw his expression melt into something like relief when his eyes fell on him. Victor smiled and held out his elbow towards Yuuri, who took it with a look of slight confusion. He gave the bouquet to the shorter man and opened the door, leading them into the burger joint.

“What are we doing?” The uncertainty in Yuuri’s voice was apparent.

The taller man’s grin widened as he looked at Yuuri, “We’re having dinner, of course!”

“But where’s—”

“We’ll get to that later, Yuuri. Right now it’s time to eat. Do you know what you want?”

They ordered and Victor insisted on paying, Yuuri looking at him him warily all the while. When they were waiting for their order, the brunette tried again. “Victor, where’s the file?”

“Oh, at home,” Victor responded, “we can get it later.”

The brunette frowned, tugging his hand from Victor’s elbow, who unhappily acquiesced. “We agreed that I would get the files if I won the bet. I won, why don’t you have the files.”

“I know, we can get them later, but I wanted to take you out first! That way, we both win.” His grin was blinding.

Yuuri still looked unsure but let the topic drop, listening as Victor rambled about everything and nothing, only interjecting with the occasional sympathetic hum.

They collected their food when it was ready, moving towards a couple of seats that Victor had staked out at the big table in the middle of the floor. When they reached their spot he set down his food and rushed around to Yuuri’s chair, pulling it out as the shorter man looked at him with wide eyed dubiety and slowly sat down as if he half expected the chair to be yanked out from underneath him.

This was going better than he had hoped, Yuuri still looked unsure but hadn’t stalked off in a huff or demanded that the silver haired man take him to the files immediately. All Victor could hope for was the younger man to have a good time and maybe be open to doing something like it again. 

“So, Yuuri!” Blue eyes met brown as Victor slides into his seat. “You’ve heard plenty about me, but I don’t know much about you.” He leans his chin into his hand. “Enlighten me!”

The man’s cheeks colored under the scrutiny, “There isn’t much to say, I’m afraid. I’m rather boring.”

“Now, Yuuri, we both know that’s not true. Please? I’d love to learn about you.”

The flush darkened further. “I— I’m not sure what I should tell you about.”

“Hobbies, your work, anything! I just want to know all that I can about you.”

Yuuri rubbed a hand on the back of neck before waving it slightly next to his face. “Well, you already know about my hobbies. I’m a ballet teacher uptown, but you already know about that.” He paused before adding with great uncertainty, “My favorite color’s blue?”

Deciding to spare the brunette any more discomfort, Victor spoke. “Well I’d like to learn more about your hobby, I’m afraid there’s very little known about what happens to your er— projects. Or what they look like. Can you tell me about that?”

Eyes darted around the burger joint in trepidation and Yuuri licked his lips. Noticing the tension, Victor flashed what he hoped was a reassuring grin towards his companion. “There aren’t any patrons besides us, and the servers are too far away to hear.” 

Shoulders releasing a small amount of tension. Yuuri leaned forward as a small smile crept across his face. He spoke, voice lowered and conspiratorial, “I sell them, my projects. You guys can’t find anything if there’s nothing left to find.”

Confused somewhat, Victor leans back in his seat. “We would notice if someone was selling something like that.”

“You don’t look for people selling regular meat, though. Do you?”

Comprehension dawned and his mouth stretched open in a mixture between a gasp and a smile. “You sly—” He accused. “That’s why we never caught you! Who do you sell it too?”

The brunette placed a finger over his lips, clearly having fun now, “That’s a secret.”

“No fair!” Victor whined, gently slapping the table. A french fry fell onto Yuuri’s tray from it’s container. “I wanna know!”

A coy leer appeared on his companion's face and he picked up the french fry, examining it before popping it into his mouth. “I have to maintain my air of mystery somehow.”

* * *

 

The night air was frigid against what little skin Yuuri hadn’t covered in at least two layers. Victor sat next to him on a park bench overlooking the Hudson, concrete in hand, slowly dragging his spoon through the frozen custard mixture before pulling it out and shoving the utensil in his mouth. 

Eyes narrowed against the breeze, the brunette stared at a piece of cookie dough half covered by the chocolate custard in his cup. He spoke to his dessert, “Why did you decide to ask me out?”

Victor looked at him in surprise, plastic spoon dangling from his mouth. He swallowed and pulled it out of his mouth, shoving it back into the vanilla-marshmallow monstrosity in his cup. The taller man shrugged, tapping his fingers on the side of the container. “I don’t know? I think you’re cute. And I admire your work, I didn’t want to see you get caught because you were getting careless.” He ran his finger around the rim of the cardboard cup, “Asking you out was kind of spur of the moment.”

“Oh.” The brunette glanced over at his companion before refocusing on his cup. “Well, ok.”

They sat in silence for a few more moments before the other man spoke up again in a rush. “Am I making this weird? I’m totally making this weird.”

Surprised by how nervous the cop seemed, Yuuri laughed, shaking his head. “No, of course not, Victor. I suppose I’m a little sleepy, I’m normally not outside this late.”

“Well in that case,” Victor stood, proffering his elbow for Yuuri to accept, “Shall we go on a walk to wake up? At least to the subway, if not all the way home.”

The younger man stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. He was about to shove them in his pockets, he didn’t like touching people if it wasn't necessary, it bred attachment and led to confused feelings on both ends, when he saw Victor’s face, lips stretched into a frown. Sighing, Yuuri chucked his concrete into the trash and curled his gloved hand around the man’s elbow. 

Walking down Chambers Street at midnight with an attractive cop chattering away about nothing and everything was not exactly how Yuuri expected his night to go, but it definitely was an improvement upon sitting at home and staring at his navel, so he counted it as a win.

When they reached the subway station the shorter man moved to release the other’s arm, expecting them to part ways, but the silver haired man patted the hand on his elbow. “I insist upon taking you home, Yuuri! It’s only the gentlemanly thing to do. And besides,” he leaned in closer, waggling his eyebrows, “you never know who could be a serial killer.”

Yuuri coughed, trying to cover up his snort of laughter. Never one to deny another, he responded, extending his arm down the slippery tiled stairs. “Ok then, good sir. I do believe we have a train to catch.”

* * *

 

Sometime between the second and the third stop on the train to Yuuri’s house, a brunette head fell onto Victor’s shoulder.  The man smiled and adjusted so that his arm was around his tired date. The car was almost empty, save a mother soothing her baby and a teenager with headphones in and a painting next to her, paint stains on her hands. The couple had chosen seats at the end of the car, next to the door connecting the trains.

Victor only nudged Yuuri once to coax a mumbled address from his lips and then contented himself with watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his companion’s chest and the slight flush from the heat of the car. 

When they finally arrived at their stop, the man attempted to rouse a groggy Yuuri to the best of his abilities. He guided the younger up the stairs and onto the bus, dipping his own metro card in twice and nodding to the driver. Yuuri blindly groped for a chair, scooting into the one closest to the window before immediately dropping off again, moving his head to Victor’s shoulder with little coaxing.

The man awake settled deeper into the hard bus seat, he watched the play of lights over the other’s dark hair. His eyes blinked slowly before slipping closed, the corners of his mouth upturned. 

Victor jerked awake, hand going to his phone, freezing to prevent the snoozing man on his shoulder from waking. When certain that Yuuri was still asleep, he slid his hand into his pocket, drawing out his phone. He sighed in relief when he realized that he hadn’t missed the stop, and that it was coming up in a block or two. 

Waking Yuuri up was like tugging someone from a pool of molasses. He only opened his eyes when they had been walking for a block in the freezing wind. Finally, he blinked into the wind and peered up into Victor’s face. He opened his mouth for a yawn, which was decidedly adorable, and asked, “How far away are we?”

“Maybe a block or two.” 

“Oh, good. What time is it?”

“About one thirty.”

At this Yuuri stopped and turned to face him. “One thirty? You should be home, it’s so late!” When Victor opened his mouth to protest he was stopped by a delirious finger to the lips that nearly slid off the corner of his mouth. The younger man leaned closer and whispered as if he was sharing a secret, “You’re staying at my house. I have an extra bedroom and it’s much too late for you to be by yourself on the train.” Nodding to himself, the brunette grabbed Victor’s wrist and towed him the last two blocks.

He stopped in front of a small, unassuming house, the gray siding melting in with the other similar houses on the street.  _ A good place to kill someone _ , Victor muse,  _ Yuuri has a nice house _ . 

Victor, himself, had an apartment. It was cramped, and the elevator didn’t work half the time, but it was close to both the beach and his work. He liked to walk Makkachin on the sand when the weather was nice.

The man had shoved his slowly numbing fingers into his pockets and started hopping from foot to foot before Yuuri got the door open, slamming his shoulder into the paneling after jiggling the key around in the lock.

Victor stepped in after Yuuri flapped an arm at him from the entrance. The brunette slammed the lights on and stumbled up the stairs, cursing under his breath. 

He reappeared two seconds later with a bundle of clothes in his hands that he handed to Victor. “Bathroom’s the first door to the left upstairs, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, call if you need anything.”

He turned on his heel and went up the stairs again, Victor now on his heels, turning right instead of left, going into his bedroom and leaving the other to his own devices. 

When he finally made it into the bathroom, Victor sighed and tapped his head against the door briefly before changing into the slightly small clothes Yuuri had provided and brushing his teeth. He scrubbed his face when he was finished and stared at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed in concentration.

He supposed that it went well. Yuuri seemed tense, but that was rather expected for a first (unplanned) date, and Yuuri had loosened up at the end. He seemed comfortable with Victor being at his house right? Frustrated hands raked through his hair before deciding that he had done the best that he could, and Yuuri couldn’t escape his affections in any case. Few before had managed to avoid Victor’s charm, men and women alike fell to his feet on a regular basis. Smiling at the man in the mirror, Victor tugged open the door and strutted out, confident once again.

* * *

Having a visitor in his house was nerve wracking for Yuuri. As a person who valued and required isolation for his hobby, the only person who had been over to his house in months had been Phichit. That was only when Phichit came to pick him up for a trip, and he hadn’t been further in Yuuri’s house than the foyer.

Victor wasn’t only just in his bathroom, he was also a  _ cop _ , albeit a twisted one, with his extracurriculars. Yuuri’s skin crawled with the idea of someone invading his space. It was only for one night, he reminded himself. Beyond that, Victor seemed nice enough. He  _ was _ rather loud, but he had interest in what Yuuri had to say, and had never made any unwelcome advances. 

He also did have a  _ very  _ comfortable shoulder. 

Yuuri sighed, grabbing his pajamas from where he had folded them neatly and placed them on one of his pillows this morning. He slipped them on, pulling back the covers to his bed and face planting on the pillow with a soft groan.

There was a soft knock on the door and Yuuri grunted and held the hand closest to the door half into the air, not moving from his spot on the bed.

* * *

 

Victor poked his head in, hair gleaming softly from the lights in the hallway. “Yuuri? Where do you want me to sleep?” 

The hand in the air patted the spot next to Yuuri on his bed. “Sleep here… Too tall for couch.” 

The mumbles into the pillow petered off and when Victor whispered “Yuuri? Are you awake?” The only response he received was Yuuri turning his face towards the open door and scrunching up his face because of the light that shone from the gap in the doorway. 

The silver haired man slipped smiled to himself and softly shut the door. He padded down the stairs and into the foyer. The door was unlocked so he secured it and then turned off that Yuuri had turned on when entering the house. He turned and went back upstairs, retrieving his clothes from the bedroom. He turned off the lights in the hallway then slipped back into the other’s room.

The dark haired man made a soft sound at the other’s entrance, rolling over so his back faced Victor and the door. The taller man put his folded clothes onto the floor, slipping his phone out of his jacket pocket and checking his charge. He shrugged, supposing that he had enough battery to last until morning and set his alarm. He wanted enough time to go back to his house and take a shower before heading into work, eager to have a chance to brag to his partner, Chris, about his date. 

He happily tugged down the duvet cover, sliding in between the cool sheets, next to the sleeping Yuuri. Soft puffs of breath coming from the brunette’s slack lips. Victor tugged up the fabric, turning onto his side, he faced his companion’s back. In response to the shift, Yuuri turned again, half concious, and grumbled something unintelligable before half tucking himself into Victor’s body. His hand blindly reached up to pat Victor’s cheek before mumbling, “Time for sleep... No more loud.” 

The other’s hand came up to grab the hand covering his cheek, “Of course,” he whispered, “thank you for tonight.” Yuuri made a soft noise and tucked himself further into the curve of his companion’s body. 

Victor’s last thought was how lucky he was before sleep pulled him under. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah blah blah, again it is 2am and I'm posting this.   
> You should thank Mandy if you're glad this chapter exists. She's been nagging me for _weeks_.  
>  Wasn't read over by anyone but the spell checker on google docs, so again, lemme know if there are mistakes.   
> Idk when I'll update again, but maybe soon, since I'm out of school. I'm gonna be working on my portfolio so in any case I'll be putting out content, even if it isn't fanfic content, it'll be related to my webcomic that will hopefully happen. 
> 
> P.S. No one voted on their phones for who they wanted to die I'm very disappointed in you all.  
> P.S.S. Very likely that there'll be murder next chapter because I'm a ho.
> 
> Adios, butterflies. Don't do drugs.

**Author's Note:**

> [Dis](http://thegalliumspoon.tumblr.com/) my tumblr. Come scream at me.  
>  I'm everywhere at thegalliumspoon.  
> Kudos and comments feed my cats. And the printer that's extorting my family for money.
> 
> L is my love, I'm sorry icicle died, babe. 
> 
> Tell me if I should continue or leave it be.  
> Lemme know if I fucked up shit and need to fix it. I didn't proofread.  
> Goodbye butterflies. You should take extra special care of yourself today.


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